


True Strength

by LordessScribes



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Gen, Pre-Fall of Overwatch, a little drabble about brigitte's training, also yeah its heavily inspired by that one sequence in the adventure zone, i'm a huge fan of that moment and it really worked well with brigitte, its half a flashback sequence, she's training with reinhardt, short character study i suppose, so i kinda rewrote it with those characters, well kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-16 11:11:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14163552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordessScribes/pseuds/LordessScribes
Summary: a heavily inspired by a scene in the adventure zone little drabble i wrote about Brigitte's training from Reinhardt.





	True Strength

The smoke was thick, too thick to make out more than the rough shapes of the buildings that rose up on all sides. The sounds of the battle were loud in Brigitte’s ears and she clenched her flail in both hands, waiting for her opportunity. Her team was somewhere over the line of a fence, she thought. Separated, she couldn’t protect them, and it worried her.

Though, separated, the machines also couldn’t hurt them. There was a clicking of metal behind her, and she turned just in time to catch the blast with her shield, sending her skidding back and cutting a line through the smoke, her armor absorbing the majority of the shock.

The Sentinel drones lived up to their names, it would seem. They towered over her, clear panels for eyes baring down and recognizing her as their enemy. Normally she might have an edge, having known how and by whom they were built. Lately, though, the bad guys had gotten better at taking inspiration from her father’s previous works.

Brigitte swallowed and readied her flail again, this time anticipating their attack. The two bots before her hummed, zeroing in on her and preparing to lung forward again.

With a scream, she darted in, shield first.

 

 

~~~~~~

 

 

It was clear in the little arena beside the gates. A great place for outdoor sparring and weapon testing. Most of the agents that lived on the base were inside, avoiding the promise of rain from the dark clouds overhead. The weather was rather gloomy, in fact, though nothing would dampen Brigitte’s spirits today.

At 16, though short, she already boasted muscles that could easily beat both Jack and Gabe combined in an arm wrestle. It was expected, thanks to her impressive heritage. This was also why she was allowed to be trained on the base itself without question or security breechings. She couldn’t just stay at home and learn to fight, she needed hands on experience with experienced fighters and today she would finally get that.

She’d been stretching for some time, having gotten to their lesson nearly twenty minutes early, when the doors to the base opened and Reinhardt marched out. Tracer skipped carelessly at his elbow, talking about something Brigitte couldn’t hear. Even from far away, she could see the resigned concern etched into Rein’s features. It was odd, he almost looked reluctant to start their lesson.

She shook her head and rolled her shoulders again, finishing stretching and putting it out of mind. She’d get real combat training today, she couldn’t be in a negative headspace for it.

“Morning, boss!” she greeted.

“Morning Brigitte!” Tracer waved, then hopped onto the edge of the small barrier around the clearing.

“I’m all warmed up, do you need a minute? Got here a bit early.” Brigitte asked, looking to Reinhardt.

“No I’m good, we shouldn’t waste time.” He smiled affectionately at her, then took a breath, steeling his face back to serious. “You’re sure you want me to do this?”

“Papa wouldn’t take me seriously, and nobody else here would pose the challenge or has the same experience as you. I’m ready.”

He nodded. “Alright. Before we start, I am warning you now, I have no intention of easing up on you.”

“Right back acha, big guy!” Brigitte grinned, holding finger guns at the veteran fighter before her.

Reinhardt sighed heavily, fighting off a smile. “If at any point you require aid, just shout for Lena and she will help you.”

Brigitte’s gaze drifted over to the same barrier that Tracer had perched herself on, smiling and rolling an umbrella between her hands.

“Like a safeword then!” Brigitte grinned while she cackled. “Ok, our safeword is ‘Tracer’!” Tracer winked at her, which she returned, both giggling all the while.

Reinhardt stepped between the two, cutting off their views of each other and shouldered his hammer before setting it down with a frightening thud. “Alright, let’s start here.” He stepped away from his weapon, seeming to decide against sparring with it right away. “You said you wanted to get stronger, right?”

She swallowed her rising excitement. “Yes.”

He rubbed his chin, then asked, “What do you think strength _is_ , Brigitte?”

After a moment of deliberation, Brigitte took the opportunity to make a joke, and flexed one brawny arm.

Both members of her audience chuckled. “You think that being physically more powerful is strength?”

“Well-“

“Is that really what you think, Brigitte?”

“No I literally think that flexing is strength.”

Though Tracer kept giggling behind her hand, Reinhardt’s face fell, and he shook his head, almost scolding. Then he was digging his feet into the dirt, charging her.

It was over before it began, Brigitte already on her back, having been thrown from her feet before she could defend herself. She sat up on her elbows, already feeling her backside turning sore from the impact of her body on the ground, staring in almost terror at her unofficial uncle that had just attacked her.

Never before had she been given any sort of idea of just how powerful one man could be, and yet, there he was, standing where she’d just been flexing, looking as though he’d extended no more effort than one would getting the paper. Behind him, Tracer had nearly fallen off her post, laughing wildly.

“Physical strength is nothing, Brigitte,” Reinhardt said, drawing Brititte’s attention back to him. “I’m more powerful than you, Winston is more powerful than me, a spaceship is more powerful than Winston and a volcano is more powerful than a spaceship.” His voice was iron, with no room for argument. “There’s always something more powerful than you, Brigitte. That is incorrect.”

 

 

~~~~~

 

The armor on her left arm cracked under the metal claws of the sentinel and she used its grip to fling it over her head, crashing it to the ground. It released her arm but was quickly pulling its pieces back into place to fight again. A rebuilding sort to take hits and keep fighting. Brigitte would need to destroy it for good in one hit.

With the new knowledge of her opponents, she rushed back into the fray.

 

~~~~~~

 

Brigitte laid spread eagle on the ground, collecting her breath. It was pleasantly cloudy today, enough to cool down the sun but not enough to obscure the sky. Just as she had leaned up onto her elbows, she felt a large hand gently pull her to her feet by the back of her shirt. She offered a tired smile at Reinhardt while brushing the dust off of her back and legs. Tracer was laughing again, though this time not at her.

If Brigitte had to guess, she was on her phone messaging that mystery girl that everyone on the base figured out was Emily weeks ago. Having her friend be unofficially dating her sister was more amusing than anything. Glancing behind herself, Brigitte confirmed her guess, seeing the rookie agent sitting upside down with headphones in.

“Let’s try again, Brigitte.” Reinhardt called her attention back, shouldering his hammer. “What do you think strength is?”

“Strength is…” Brigitte groaned, she _hated_ the question. She was so tired of being wrong again and again. Four weeks and she’d not made any progress in answering the question. She was wrong time and time again, and time and time again she’d get her ass soundly handed to her each incorrect guess without mercy. “Being stronger than your opponent. Strength is being strong enough.”

Reinhardt tilted his head, humoring her. “Strong enough to do what?”

Another follow up question. Each time she got them she’d think she’d made some headway in the question only to be sent back to zero. “Win, survive, I- _I don’t know_!” Brigitte could see it coming when a massive arc of his hammer slammed into her shield, sending her back to the ground, this time across the training area, knocking the wind out of her again.

“You’re telling me what it is to be strong; that’s not what strength is! Why do you want to be strong, Brigitte?”

Brigitte pushed herself back to her feet, despite the effort making her eyes water. “So I don’t have to lose anyone.”

“You want to protect your friends and family, is that right?”

“They’re not strong enough, so I _have_ to be.” She clenched her fists. It was true, she had to be strong, had to improve, had to be able to fight and win and protect her family. She had to _save them_ -

Brigitte’s guard raised when she saw Reinhardt smirk. And then he turned-

Her gut dropped as he charged towards Tracer, who’s back was to them, headphones still in.

She forgot the aching of her body in an instant, dashing forward and trying to stop the hammer that he’d swung back. He paused only a second to shake her off and knock her helplessly to the ground.

Four weeks ago she would never have imagined he could attack someone unarmed and unsuspecting for no reason, but after enduring his grueling combat training she couldn’t be sure. She could only scramble back to her feet before his hammer was coming back down, screaming with betrayal and disgust as she realized she couldn’t stop the assault.  

The hammer didn’t even touch her, completely stopping an inch above her fluffy brown hair. The force of the stop sent the short locks shifting across her head and the ground beneath kicked up some dirt, but Tracer was unharmed. Brigitte was shaking with adrenaline, relief, and whiplash, falling to one knee with a sigh.

Reinhardt turned to her, hammer still frozen above Tracer’s unsuspecting head. “You need strength to protect someone, that’s right, Brigitte. But the desire to protect is not strength itself. You’re incorrect again.”

 

~~~~

 

Its circuits were ripped apart between her hands, sending sparks and chips of metal flying in all directions. Brigitte tossed it to the side, heaving for breath and not watching while the pieces joined the pile of already destroyed bots.

But they just kept coming.

She managed to rip apart another two sentinels before one somehow got the better of her, landing a solid shot between her shoulders and throwing her against the fence. Her armor was cracked and smoking, but still held up against another blast that knocked her off her feet.

Cornered, she tried to raise her flail again but it was ripped away to join her shield somewhere out of sight. She rolled to avoid another blast square to her head, before a heavy metal foot slammed into her back, pinning her to the ground.

She couldn’t do it, she wasn’t strong enough.

 

~~~

 

There was a sickening pop, as her shoulder was hit out of place by the force of him slamming her to the ground, holding her there. She scrambled for a grip on the ground but the disconnect from the injury wore off too fast and she cried out, pain blinding her from the dislocated shoulder.

“ _Brigitte! What is strength_?!” Reinhardt roared in her hear, not letting up, giving no quarter to the student beneath him.

“I don’t _know_!”

“Yes you do! Think! What was the first thing I told you when we started?!”

She squeezed her eyes shut. He’d said he wouldn’t go easy on her, then he immediately asked that same damned question. She couldn’t think. Her arm hurt! He’d said he wouldn’t go easy on her, then-

“Ask for help!” it wasn’t good enough, that answer, because the weight on her increased. There was another pop, from where she didn’t even know, but it hurt like hell, blinding her again. She’d gotten it she’d-

Oh. She couldn’t win.

“ _Tracer_!”

There was a blur of blue light, and before Brigitte’s hair had time to shift with the motion of whatever happened, she was being helped to her feet. The weight on her back had vanished before she realized and her arm was being popped back into place. The pain subsided into a manageable ache.

Brigitte blinked in surprise at Tracer, eye level and beaming, then turned around to look at her mentor.

Reinhardt was on the ground, pushing himself to his feet and rubbing a sore arm of his own. He met her gaze and grinned with unbridled pride.

“Strength is… a tool Brigitte. It’s a commodity. You can spend it and spend it, but everyone’s got some, and lots of people will have more than you.” He approached them, tossing his hammer aside, “But if you ask for it, Brigitte, other peoples’ strength can become your own. That.” He patted both women on the shoulders. “Is what strength is, Brigitte. Who gives you strength? How willing are you to ask for it? Pride and glory are the enemies of true strength.”

Brigitte wheezed out a sigh, basking in relief and joy. Of course he would have made it easy, of course it was this obvious.

Reinhardt squeezed her shoulder, and she looked back up. “In every warrior’s life, there comes a moment where they are overpowered by a superior fighter,” he lifted his hand and wrapped it around Tracer’s tiny form, dragging her to his side in a one-armed hug. “But you keep friends nearby, and you ask for help when you need it, Brigitte, and you won’t just be strong.”

Brigitte locked eyes with her teacher, grinning, and he nodded with a smile of his own.

“You’ll be unbeatable.”

 

~~~

 

The metal pushed harder, her armor cracking again, this time sending a shock through her body as its wiring inside got fried. She could feel herself sinking into the ground, her weapon too far away. She couldn’t do it.

“Help! Someone! Agh-!”

There was an explosion.

 Brigitte covered her eyes against the dust around her as the fence blew apart, wooden planks being thrown across the street along with the sentinel. The weight disappeared and her armor began repairing itself with whatever wiring was saved and power it had left.

Before Brigitte could try and stand on her own, a bright pink gun was in her face. Following it, she met eyes with D.VA behind the blue shield of her mech. Smiling, she accepted the gun-hand and stood up.

They watched the machine slowly pull itself back together, but didn’t give it a chance to finish its repairs, before both Brigitte was lunging forward, flail back in hand, bashing it into the far wall so D.VA could finish it off with her own projectiles in an instant.

The two others (was it really only two?) that had overpowered Brigitte before stepped up, but were easily overpowered by the two women, being caught in D.VA’s instant targeting system and Brigitte’s shield. As quickly as they had attacked, they were down.

There was a moment of quiet while they caught their breath, before Brigitte raised one closed hand to D.VA’s mech, who returned the fist bump without hesitating.

“Do you want to say it or should I?” D.VA leaned forward in her seat to better see Brigitte.

“Mm, I want to.”  She let her flail rest over one shoulder. “Top of the scoreboard.”


End file.
